The Fall
by Indoctrinated
Summary: Arcadia was once a place of unimaginably beauty, but that was an Arcadia that had not been known for nearly a hundred years.


A/N: Any inaccuracies in this fic are mine. I did as much research as possible on Arcadia before writing this, and let me tell you, there isn't a whole lot. I invented some history the planet, more specifically what happened during the Fall of Arcadia. If you see something that you know is wrong or happened differently, please tell me because someday I might want to write another piece that involves Arcadia. Other than that, I present to you: The Fall.

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A tall figure appeared over the crest of a ridge, his profile casting three separate shadows in midday glare of the Arcadian suns. The shadows shifted in sync as the figure propped his blaster against a rock and stripped off his helmet. He turned his gaze to the heavens, arms hanging limp by his sides, a surrender to the oppressing heat that could not be escaped. The heat passed through material of every kind and size and shape, infusing itself into the bones of every being on this planet. It had a life of its own, at least since the War started. Arcadia hadn't always been this way; a bone-dry wasteland where husks of former ships rotted under the dying suns, where Daleks and Time Lords grappled for the sake of the universe.

Arcadia was once a place of unimaginably beauty, her cities filled with peaceful millions, and her forests unblemished by pollution or slowly eaten away at by an ever-encroaching population that sought only expansion. Arcadia's people lived in symbiosis with nature, receiving what she provided for them and taking care of her land in return. Three brilliant suns once rose and set over Arcadia's brilliant landscape, disappearing from the sight of her capital, Belferan, over the Great Ocean that covered exactly one quarter of the planet. The Arcadians were a peaceful people, having no army other than a small security force, and ruled by wise leaders who were faithful to the people in place of their own ambitions.

But this was an Arcadia that had not been known for nearly a hundred years.

The Time War caught up with Arcadia, setting her lush forests to fire, burning her shining cities to ash, draining her great sea, and slowly killing her three suns that gave life to her inhabitants. It was the Daleks who first invaded Arcadia, establishing camps in which to place the conquered Arcadians until a point where they would be eliminated. Daleks had no need for prisoners or slaves; their only goal was to cleanse the universe of all inferior beings.

Then the Time Lords swept in from the front lines, furious with their defeat at Corvasian 9, and disheartened by the slaughter at Devo. Four hundred million Devoan citizens had been simultaneously executed by Dalek soldiers, the warpships and battle cruisers of the Gallifreyan armada landing only moments too late to prevent the massacre. Battalions of Time Lords and Ladies, outfitted in golden-brown suits of battle armor and armed with hefty Void blasters that could temporarily interrupt a Dalek's shield generator, leaving it's shell vulnerable to plasma blasts and mortar fire, marched out of ship holds and onto the field of battle. A veteran Gallifreyan soldier could dispatch a Dalek in three succinct shots, but there weren't near enough experienced Time Lords to ensure a victory. The last thousand or so years had proved that.

What the Gallifreyans had hoped for was a single pitched battle, with a clear defeat or victory for each side. Arcadia was a system that could not afford to be lost, but if it was to be taken, then the best they could hope for was a quick battle. It turned into a century long siege, neither side willing to back down and concede defeat. Slowly, as the tides of war changed, Arcadia shifted to become the center of the Time War, the very front line where the elite soldiers were dispatched and the best generals sent to command.

The Gallifreyans were heavily outnumbered in every planet where the war was fought, and this siege was no different. Consistently the Time Lords were outnumbered 10 to 1, and the only advantage the Gallifreyans had over the Daleks was the quality and the agility of their warriors, as well as the superior shielding technology that could withstand several blasts from a Dalek weapon before being compromised.

The Gallifreyan soldier that stood on a ridge amidst the dry lakebed that had once contained Arcadia's great ocean was no different. Four silver gleaming chevrons striped along the gauntlets denoted this warrior as a high ranking officer, the heavy scarring and roughshod cast to the armor's surface claimed that this particular soldier had been through many a tough battle.

For a moment, as he stood with his head thrown back to the sky, it looked as if he might collapse right then and there, deciding that life just wasn't worth living anymore. But then, with a weary sigh, the soldier reached for his blaster. Just as his fingertips brushed the barrel a flitter of movement across the lakebed caught his eye. In an instant a pair of high-powered binoculars were in his hands and pressed to his face. A golden, dome-shaped craft hovered into view, crossing over the territory with a speed unmatchable by anything other than a machine, and there was only one type of dome-shaped machine on this planet. It was a Dalek.

The warrior bared his teeth in a feral grin, this is what he had come looking for. With a frenzied bellow - for his home, for his friends, for his family, for his people, for all the innocent lives lost – the Gallifreyan charged down the ridge, long legs urging him to a speed only a fraction of that of the Dalek, but far faster than any human could ever hope to achieve. The two soldiers clashed in a frenzy of smoke and plasma. The Gallifreyan dodged one, two, three shots from the Dalek's blaster, then nimbly side-stepping a questing plunger. His attention temporarily taken off the blaster by the unexpected plunger thrust, the Dalek took the small advantage and loosed another blast of plasma, catching the Gallifreyan in the shoulder. The battle armor's shield generator absorbed the shot, but could only withstand two more hits before it failed completely. He swore violently and squeezed off a charged blast from his gun as he strafed sideways, and the translucent shield surrounding the Dalek temporarily dissipated. Quick as a flash, the warrior leapt onto the Dalek's top dome, and with feet planted on either side of the revolving dome, he flicked the power setting up so high the blaster hummed in his capable hands, pumping round after round into the Dalek's thick armor.

Before a long, with many unsuccessful attempts to throw off the Gallifreyan attacker by the protesting Dalek, a hole appeared in the outer shell. Inside, a mass of flesh intricately welded directly into the machinery and computers squirmed sickeningly, as if trying to escape but knowing inside that resistance now was futile. The Gallifreyan lowered his head into the hole and spoke to the quivering mass, his voice dark as the deepest pit and filled with a venomous hatred so loathsome that only could have come from seeing everything he loved and lived for being ripped away one by one. "You took from me something that did not belong to you."

The Dalek spoke despite having no visible mouth, it's tone a miserable, resigned croak. "What did I take from you, Time Lord?"

The eyes of the Time Lord darkened instantly, and he lowered his head a few inches closer. His whisper was no less ominous, no less malicious. "You took away my life." And with that he ended the Dalek's life, one succinct blast obliterating the mass of flesh and the life support connection, instantly shorting out all brain function. The hardware inside the shell died with a piercing squeal. The soldier did not laugh, he did not celebrate. Instead he carefully, methodically went to work with a slender metallic device about the length of a pencil that buzzed softly when activated. Over a period of a few minutes, he systematically dismantled the machine, destroying all useable parts so that they could not be salvaged to build more of these killing machines. He took with him only one piece of the Dalek, a computer chip the size of a grain of rice. In it contained all the planned troop movements and squad positions of the Dalek force currently stationed on Arcadia. This was a valuable piece of information, maybe it would even give the Time Lords the upper hand so that they might put this siege to an end and let Arcadia rest.

The warrior turned away from yet another smoking hunk of machinery that no longer had a use, his triple shadow slithering along the harsh ground like a sinuous snake. He didn't look back. He carried his blaster loosely in one hand, walking with shoulders slumped and a bowed head. His drooping posture was not of shame, but of an indifferent resignation. This was what was left for him to do, he did not enjoy it. At least he didn't want to enjoy it, and yet every time he took a Dalek's life, he felt a revolting sense of triumph that simultaneously sickened and empowered him.

After a few minutes, the warrior reached the ridge where he had left his helmet. He sighed and picked it up, cramming it back on his head. His hard features were now masked by a reflective visor and brown-gold admantium plating. Above, in the sky, the three dying Arcadian suns passed over one another – something that happens only once ever decade – and eclipsed into a single point of light. Had the Time War not come, the Arcadians would have thrown a festival in celebration of this eclipse, but this Arcadia was no longer what it once was. For a few seconds, the Gallifreyan stood in sharp profile, watching this wondrous event with a cold indifference. After a moment he turned away, blaster propped over his left shoulder. He whispered to the hot, lonely wasteland, an acrid bitterness sharpening his sorrowful tone, "For the glory of Gallifrey."

The single sun burst back into the three, throwing multiple shadows once more. This was the last time the suns of Arcadia would eclipse, for Arcadia was destined to fall the very next day. It would fall in a rain of fire and ash, skies blackening with clouds of smoke and Arcadia's now acrid air filling with the cries of perishing Gallifreyans and the screaming of dying machinery. The Fall would, come, and it would come soon.

Fin.


End file.
